


TIMESTAMP - Prequel to Sound of the Shore

by mrspadrona



Series: The 'Auana Club [12]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: AU-Bikers, Background story, Gen, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrspadrona/pseuds/mrspadrona
Summary: People have asked why Al Giabetta owes Wolfie. Albert decided to grace you with the story.Also, I have writer's block and I was trying to wind my way around it.Also, I think I'm obsessed with creating this 'Verse. Is it possible to be addicted to your own works?





	

“Wolfie, c’mere,” Red’s voice echoed across the garage and Dominic stood up from under the hood of the car he was working on. He’d been here at the garage about a year and had never been happier. He had engines to work on, a group of guys that looked out for him and was making enough money to keep himself in the clear for bills and food. Red was sometimes a pain in the ass but it was in a “grouchy uncle” sort of way that Dominic could deal with. He wiped his hands as clean as he could and walked over to Red’s office.

“Shut the door,” Red told him before pointing at the chair in front of his desk. “I got a question for ya, Dominic. You been here a while and you know what’s goin’. If I were to offer you a job for the Club, would you be willing to take it?”

Dominic thought for a minute. Sure, he knew he was working for the Big Red Machine … anyone with ears knew Red’s garage was the Clubhouse for the Angels in Newark. He hadn’t come here looking to fall in with the Red & White, he’d just needed a job to feed himself. But then again, he saw the way everyone was and he knew this was where he belonged. In a way, he’d been waiting to see if he’d be judged Prospect material.

“What do you need, Red?”

Red nodded and managed a grin. “Yous a good kid, Dominic. Remind me of Danno sometimes but with less temper and a couple inches taller. He was a good kid too … knew him since he was ‘bout yay high,” Red held his hand up about an inch above his desk, “course he’s only about yay high now so that don’t say much.” He raised his hand another inch off the desk and Wolfie couldn’t help the snort of laughter.

“Anyways, I got a job for ya. I got a guy out in Chicago that has a bike that needs to be put back together after it was … disassembled in a rather aggressive fashion during an altercation. Told him I’d send my best guy out and that you’ll be there day after tomorrow, first thing. You’re flyin out tomorrow afternoon.” Red slid a printed out confirmation sheet with his ticket information. “I’ll ship a set of tools out to you overnight tomorrow. Fuck only knows what kinda shit tools those mooks out there use.”

Wolfie was a little stunned and he looked up at Red, trying not to let it show. Which he failed at, apparently because Red actually chuckled. 

“Kid, you’re one of the best damn mechanics I’ve ever seen with almost any fuckin bike. And this bike is special because I custom built it myself for Al. I don’t have the plans for it because I built it on instinct and black coffee. But you’re good, you’ll figure it out. Now get the fuck outta here and go pack whatever you’re gonna need. Figure it’ll take you a coupla weeks.”

“Thanks, Red. I appreciate the opportunity and I won’t let you down,” Wolfie managed to gulp out, stumbling over his words. He was up and ready to walk out when Red stopped him.

“This might come in handy, kid.” Red tossed a cut over to him and Wolfie held the new leather in his hands, breathing in the smell. The Prospect patch was already sewn on, along with the lower rocker stating NEWARK. “You’re Machine, Dominic. Wear it proud.”

“Always, Red. And thanks.”

“Get the fuck outta my office.”

Wolfie’s grin lasted him through the next day and through his flight to Chicago, where he was met by a group of 5 guys plus Al Giabetta and a kid that looked to be about 11. He took a minute to be awestruck; Al Giabetta was a legend that even his father had known about. For Wolfie, it was the equivalent of meeting a famous actor; like being struck by lightning twice … shit like this did not happen to 17 year old kids from Newark. 

“You Dominic?” Al asked and it took a minute for Wolfie to find his voice.

“Yessir. That’s me, Dominic.” He held his hand out, still a little gobsmacked. Al seemed to take it in stride.

“Good to meet you. Red tells me you’re the best bike guy he’s got. This is my son, Henry.” Al shook Wolfie’s hand and clapped his son on the shoulder. Wolfie extended his hand towards Henry, who shook it with a firm grasp, just like his father. 

“Let’s get you outta this disaster and back to the building. Get you fed and give you a chance to look at the bike and tell me if you really can save it.”

Al led him over towards a dark red Escalade and they all got into the back (bulletproof, Wolfie noticed). In the 30 minutes it took to get to the building Wolfie learned that Henry was 14 and was hoping to go into accounting. He was good with numbers and had shown promise with advanced concept accounting. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humour that Wolfie appreciated right away. 

***

“Let’s just say someone was very angry and they took it out on my ride. That someone is no longer a problem, but my ride … my ride is a problem,” Al was telling him as they walked into a large garage that was primarily empty, save for … Wolfie stopped dead in the middle of his step and almost burst into tears at the wreck in front of him. It was a mangled pile of metal that was almost unrecognizable … He couldn’t even tell what style of motor it had or the frame size. He walked closer, all but tuning out Al as he examined the disaster. 

“This isn’t a problem, Mr. Giabetta. This is a fuckin’ tragedy,” Wolfie said, almost to himself and he heard the loud chuckle from behind him.

“A tragedy that Red has assured me you can fix, kid. Apparently you got some kinda magic when it comes to bikes, like you sprinkle fairy dust on ‘em or something.”

“The blood of whoever wrecked the bike might work better but yea, I promise I’ll do the best job possible to get this bike better than it was. Did my tools get here yet?” Wolfie turned toward the rest of the garage, looking for the telltale box.

“Sadly, the blood of said person is … unavailable. Unless you wanna take a swim in the Chicago River, which I really can’t recommend. However, your tools are on their way here. Couple of my boys are bringing them down for you. You need anything, you just let me know and while you’re here, I’ll make sure you have a ride and you can stay in one of the apartments in my building. I can have one of the boys show you where it is when you’re done for the day.”

Wolfie heard him and grunted in acknowledgment as he squatted down next to the pile of metal and began separating out what was salvageable and what would need total replacement. He only hoped Red had included a welder in the tools … this was going to take a while. 

By the time the tools made it to the garage, Wolfie had managed to get most of the metal separated out into what was still usable and what he’d have to get replacement parts for. In his head, he could almost see what the bike had looked like beforehand, just from the parts left over and it was an ingenious design; but one that he could definitely improve upon.

***

“This is the best pie you can ever eat. I dunno how you Jersey people survive on that cardboard you call pizza,” Al was saying as they sat down to dinner that night. He’d invited Wolfie to his penthouse and Wolfie felt like he was completely lost. He was a still-wet-behind-the-ears 17 year old kid who wore a vest that was too stiff to creak and he was eating pizza in an apartment that overlooked the Chicago skyline with a man who was a legend and his son. He was trying desperately to remain cool about it but he was almost squealing on the inside.

“No disrespect Mr. Giabetta but pizza should be crispy with a crust that shatters when you bite into it. This is good, but it’s not pizza,” Wolfie challenged, grinning.

“Kid, call me Al. Mr. Giabetta makes me think I’m old. So you’re Snub’s kid, eh?”

Wolfie wasn’t surprised he knew who he was; men like Al Giabetta didn’t let just anyone near them or their family. He nodded in agreement before speaking, “Yeah. He was a great Dad … I miss him and my Ma.”

“I have to ask. Why are you riding Red and White instead of followin in your old man’s footsteps?” Al inquired and Wolfie had to bite down on his lip and count to 10 before he could answer; he could taste the hatred in his mouth.

“That family, after Dad passed, walked away from my Ma like we didn’t exist. Not even a call or an acknowledgment of any kind, despite 50 years of loyalty. When Ma passed, they came to me … wanting me to take up Dad’s place. I told them to fu … screw off. I got no love for anyone who can throw away loyalty.” Wolfie shot a guilty look towards Henry.

Al was looking at him with a strange expression and Wolfie ducked his head down. “Sorry. I don’t mean to disrespect your table with my language but that family is a sore spot.”

He heard the full bellied laugh come from the opposite chair and he saw Al laughing so hard his face was turning as red as the pizza. “Jesus kid. Don’t worry about your mouth … Henry here can probably outswear a sailor on a good day, he just doesn’t think I know about it. You got balls and brains … How old are you? 19? And you already know what good people and loyalty are.”

Wolfie smiled again. “I’m 17 actually. I’ll be 18 in a few months.”

“17 and you’re already this good with bikes and with people? Good thing Red got his hands on you then … you’ll do good with him. And you’re right about that family … loyalty ain’t in their priority list.”

The rest of the dinner they spent talking about bikes and what Wolfie envisioned for the repair job. He’d already contacted Red about getting the parts he’d need (and hadn’t Red enjoy griping about Wolfie attempting to ‘improve fuckin perfection’) and he was expecting them in a few days. Unfortunately, one of the things he’d needed was a new frame as the original had been bent and twisted beyond repair. 

By the time Wolfie went to bed in the apartment Al had provided, he was exhausted but felt more comfortable.

***

It became habit. Wolfie rolled out of bed around 5am and would take a ride through the city, mapping out the streets in his head and preparing for the day. He’d found a coffee place that he liked and he’d usually head there for a cup and a danish. There was a real pretty girl that worked behind the counter and she’d begun to anticipate his arrival after the 3rd day. She’d flirt a little and he’d flirt back, appreciating the attention. It would never go anywhere; she wasn’t ol’ lady material … too sweet and goodie two-shoes. But harmless flirtation was always fun and it’s not like he had women throwing themselves at him … he was a 17 year old kid wearing a cut from a different city.

By 6:30, he’d be back at the garage and already working on the bike. He’d tune everything else out and just work on the bike, fitting the pieces together like a puzzle only he could see. About Noon, Al would come down and check on his progress and was always amazed at what Wolfie had done since the previous day. He’d once again extend the invitation for Wolfie to join him for dinner before disappearing. Wolfie would take a ride about 1pm to clear his head and grab some lunch somewhere before going back to the garage to finish up. Henry would swing into the garage after school and hang out for a bit before going home to do his homework. He’d close down about 7 and take a shower before arriving at Al’s penthouse around 8:30pm. They’d have dinner (usually something native to Chicago) and Wolfie’d be in bed by 10. 

Weekends he’d usually be out riding with some of Al’s guys and they were showing him some of the sights and getting him into bars (thankfully neither he nor any of them were big drinkers). They were a good crew and treated him with respect, similar to the way he was treated back home. He’d been in Chicago a little over three weeks and the bike was probably 3/4 done. He’d adjusted the pipes, put a better engine in and made the bike a little longer than it’s predecessor. All in all, he really only had a few more things to do and the bike would be finished.

One of his final (he presumed) nights in Chicago and Al had invited him to go out for a “Chicago classic” and he found himself at some place called Superdawg, eating something that had initially made him recoil. Al had about pissed himself laughing when Wolfie had asked just what in the fuck he was trying to feed him. 

“That, kid, is a classic Chicago Red Hot.”

“Al, this shit is nuclear green. I’m pretty sure it’s fluorescent … hell, it might be sentient!” Wolfie had replied, pointing at the bright green relish on top of the hot dog.

“It’s part of the experience, Wolfie. Trust me, if we were trying to poison you, we’d have the decency to wait until after you finish Dad’s bike,” Henry deadpanned and Wolfie almost choked on his soda.

“So no eating once the keys are handed over, got it. But still … I’m pretty sure this color green doesn’t exist in nature.”

“It doesn’t. It only exists in Chicago and we ain’t exactly natural,” Al quipped before digging into his own meal.

In the end, Wolfie managed to get a bite and realized it didn’t taste as weird as he was afraid it was going to. Not that he’d be running out to eat another one again in his life, but he at least managed to eat the one he’d been served. Of course, Henry and Al both teased him about his reaction and he gave as good as he got, teasing Henry about his obsessive need to drown his french fries in enough ketchup they became soggy and Al’s milkshake addiction. Finally, after eating their fill of food, it was time to head back to the apartment building. 

They’d taken an SUV instead of riding (Henry wasn’t old enough to ride and had zero interest in ever learning how to ride) and they all piled back in to go home. They were just pulling out onto the main road back to the apartments when suddenly there was a tremendous crashing sound that filled Wolfie’s ears and he found himself hanging upside down inside the truck with shattered glass all around him. It took him a minute to figure out what had happened and he realized they’d been hit by … something. He reached with one hand for the blade he kept tucked into his side pocket and cut himself free of the seatbelt he’d been wearing. Immediately he felt onto the hood of the truck and he turned to his side, finding Al unconscious behind the wheel and his entire side of the truck caved in. Looking into the backseat, Wolfie saw Henry hanging upside down but in much worse shape; there was blood dripping from his head and arm and somehow his seatbelt had gotten wrapped up under his neck, strangling him. 

Struggling to turn around, he reached out with the blade and sawed through the seatbelt to free Henry’s airway. He couldn’t do anything about him hitting the roof of the truck and he hoped he didn’t hurt him worse. Dialing 9-1-1, he reported where they were and that they’d been hit but he didn’t know by what. He slapped Al in the face, trying to get him to rouse and the man groaned loudly.

“Al, wake the fuck up. C’mon … wake up. Stay with me … we gotta get Henry outta the truck and I gotta get you free. C’mon. Wake the fuck up, man.”

Al raised his hand to his face and seemed confused as he opened his eyes. It registered they were upside down and he immediately tried to turn around. Wolfie stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Henry’s down and I think he’s OK. I cut him out of his seatbelt, it was choking him. C’mon, I gotta cut you lose and we gotta get outta the truck. I don’t know what hit us but I already called the cops.”

Al nodded, waiting for Wolf to cut him free and braced himself against the roof so he didn’t fall like Wolfie had. As soon as he was free, Wolfie wriggled his way out of the window and ran around to the other side of the truck to get Henry. He was as careful as he could be, making sure he didn’t move him too much and trying to hold his head and neck still. He tried not to look at the demolished side of the truck, even as he heard Al climbing across the roof to go out the window Wolfie had gone through. Sirens were blaring already and Wolfie looked around, trying to see what had hit them. His eyes came to rest on another truck, this one an old style Hummer, with a guy that was just climbing out from behind the wheel. As he got closer, Wolfie could smell the cheap tequila that surrounded him like a cloud. The guy was absolutely blasted drunk and could barely walk straight. He had a face full of glass but was otherwise unharmed. 

“You stupid motherfuckin’ asshole!” Wolfie slammed his fist into the guy’s face and heard the crunch of his nose. He followed the guy down, listening for the sound of the sirens and how close they were. “You piece of shit drunk. You could have killed that kid! You could have killed ME! The fuck you thinkin?” His fist came down again, this time under the guy’s chin, which caused him to bite his tongue almost clean through. Al grabbed his elbow before he could swing down again.

“Sirens are 15 seconds away. We’ll take care of him later. C’mon, kid.” Al led him over to their overturned truck and they sat leaning against it, holding onto Henry, who still hadn’t regained consciousness.

***

The EMTs rushed all three of them to the hospital to be checked out. Henry still hadn’t regained consciousness by the time they reached the hospital and he was immediately whisked away while Al and Wolfie were put into rooms to be looked at by a doctor. Al was still yelling that someone “better fuckin take care of my boy!” while the doctors were poking him and, aside from a pretty good knock to the head and some embedded glass, he was walking away clean. He disappeared almost immediately to track Henry down while Wolfie was checked over. He had a pretty good gash on his right leg from where he’d been slammed into the passenger door and he’d probably have one hell of a bruise to his shoulder come morning but other than that, he was given a clean bill of health. He thanked the doctor and went in search of Al. He found him in the family waiting room, making phone calls.

“You awright, kid?” He asked, looking Wolfie over.

“Yea I’m good. Tomorrow I’ll be a walking bruise. What’s going on with Henry?”

Al’s face darkened and a sadness went through his eyes. “He ain’t good, kid. They sayin he has a punctured spleen and he’s in surgery right now. I just called his mother to come back from Vegas, God forbid she be here for a single fuckin minute longer than she has to be.”

“Is there anythin I can do? You need me to go get her at the airport or anything?” Wolfie felt kinda helpless to do anything.

“Nah, I’ll get some poor schmuck to put up with that bitch. But you … kid,” Al walked over and hugged Wolfie tight enough that he felt like HIS spleen was going to rupture, “you saved my son’s life. The docs told me that if you hadn’t cut him free, my boy would have died in that truck waitin for the EMTs. Something about blood flow and pressure and the seat belt. I dunno, I barely heard em. But Dominic, you saved my son. I will never be able to say thank you for that.”

Wolfie was stunned. Sure he knew the kid had needed to be cut down but no idea how close he’d come to dying. “Al, I did what had to be done. I wasn’t thinkin about injuries, I was thinkin we had to get outta the truck. You don’t have to thank me for bein a decent human being.”

“I’ll decide what I have to thank you for, Robustelli. You ever find yourself nearby and you need somethin … anythin … even if it’s just a Chicago Red Hot … you call me, you hear me, kid?”

“I hear you. But I don’t ever want to see anything that shade of green ever again in my life.”

***

Henry was released from the hospital a week later. Wolfie was there for his homecoming (at Al’s insistence) and Henry had cried when he’d hugged Wolfie, thanking him over and over again. 

Once his homecoming was done, it was time for Wolfie to return to Newark. Al’s bike had long since been finished and the keys handed over. Al had called Red and gloated that Wolfie’d done a better job than Red had on the original bike. On the ride to the airport, despite the fact he was just a Prospect, Al gave him a full honor guard ride  and hugged him again before letting him leave.

It wasn’t until he got through airport security that he found the key Al had slipped into his pocket. It was the key to the apartment he’d been staying in while in Chicago. Wolfie chuckled and texted Al.

(WOLFIE: A key? Does this make me a kept soldier now?)  
(AG: Can’t wait to see those princess eyes of yours again baby)  
(WOLFIE: We’ll always have Superdawgs)  
(AG: Ill keep the relish waiting, kid)  
(WOLFIE: Seriously, a key?)  
(AG: You always have a place here, kid. Always)

Wolfie got on the plane and headed back to Newark to find out what was waiting there.

***  
(15 months later)

“Wolfie, c’mere!” Red’s voice rang through the garage and Wolfie looked up from the engine he was working on before heading towards the office.

“Whatcha need?”

“You remember me tellin you about Danno Williams?”

“Every day, Red. Every fuckin day.” Wolfie grinned and Red cuffed him on the back of the head.

“Yeah well, he’s comin into town with his husband and daughter for somethin goin’ on with his family here in the Ward. I want you to take care of ‘em. Put them up at Virg’s place, make sure it’s stocked and make sure they have your number in case they need anything while they’re in town. I made a list of what to stock in the house.”

“Sure thing. I’ll head over and get the house taken care of tomorrow and make sure to stock everything when they get here.”

Wolfie was actually looking forward to meeting the infamous Danno Williams … he’d heard enough about him over the past few years that he felt like he already knew him. He checked the list and made a note of everything he’d need, wanting to make a good first impression.

“Here you are Sir. These are the keys to the house, all your stuff is inside and if you need anythin, you let me know. I’m Wolfie and this is my number.”


End file.
